


Infiltration

by SilverWolf57



Series: Writing Prompts [10]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Cyberpunk, Orc, Writing Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-19
Updated: 2019-07-19
Packaged: 2020-07-08 08:29:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19866565
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SilverWolf57/pseuds/SilverWolf57
Summary: They had mocked me when I approached them, saying there was no way I could be of use. They had insulted my art and had me thrown out of the building. But they would learn. You never make an enemy of an infiltrator.





	Infiltration

**Author's Note:**

> Hello gentlebeings all over the world, here's another take on the prompt's of the Writing Corner, a haven for the writers looking for support in their craft. This week's prompt was: You consider yourself an artist. Unappreciated and misunderstood. You'll present them with your finest masterpiece yet.
> 
> I liked how this story went, though I feel there are quite a few things I could have improved. Let me know in the comments what you think.

I looked at myself in the mirror, snapping another lock of stray hair. The black strands fell into the sink to join their brothers in a pile. A crew cut was not something I particularly liked, but it was all part of the process and there was no room for failure, there never was. I kept on trimming the hair, beating it into shape until I was satisfied. A soft laugh escaped my lips, a pleasant buzz expanding all over my body. I took a quick shower to prepare for the next part, already preparing the lies I would tell over the next couple of hours. Today my name was going to be Carlos Colmenares, a 35 years old orc and not a handsome one either; I worked for a cleaning company as a janitor and I was a happy little cog in the corporate machine. Today was my free day, but when the company called to ask me to pick up the slack for a poor sod with food poisoning, I jumped at the chance like a dog after a bone. I would go in, do my job and get out without bothering anyone, at least, that’s what the brass thought.

I made sure to thoroughly dry my skin, just a drop of water could diminish the effectiveness of the glue and that could lead to my death. I went back into the mirror, large fingers caressing the plastic box that laid next to it. The box was bout the size of shoe box, with shiny cream plastic decorating its surface. There was no handle on its surface, no complicated patterns or over-sized parts on it, only a pair of silver locks that were more for decoration than for use. My fingers caressed the box, the smooth surface soothing my nerves, before with a tender move I flicked open the silver locks, revealing the tools of my trade. Three wide trays spread as I opened the top. Custom noses, false eyelashes, make-up, paste-on dimples, eyebrow pencils, glue and more was presented before me, all that I would need to make myself as convincing as possible. 

First came the make-up, a quick affair this time as I only need to look tired and overworked. A good base and some powder gave my bronze skin a pale look while a bit of color under my eyes sold the idea of bags under my eyes quite well. My eyebrows came next, with the pencil’s help and some bits of hair I kept for this purpose they were extended to give me a permanent scowl without reaching he unibrow area. The fake nose came next, the glue itched when I put on the gelatinous matter around my nose, molding it into a bigger and slightly deformed nose that wouldn’t call much notice. Then came the beard, short black hair highlighting my jaw, professional and a common sight when coupled with a pencil mustache. Last came the fixating lotion, a personal recipe that would make sure none of the make up felt when I started to sweat.

Done with the initial preparations, I stepped into my bedroom. With a quick walk I walked towards the closed, opening the pair of wooden doors with a hard pull. The hinges groaned as it opened a varied selection of clothes presenting themselves to my eyes. Organized by colors, the collection of clothes made for quite a show. Uniforms and tuxedos, rags and high fashion, casual and professional; all sorts of clothes were kept in the wooden storage awaiting for a chance to use them. My hands were drawn to the gray uniform at the far edge. its cheap fabric rough under my fingers. It would barely keep water out, let alone any of the wastes a janitor would be subjected to, but it was the cleaning company’s favorite material. A low growl of distaste echoed in the room as I realized I had to wear it, my skin already aching with the fiction burns I would no doubt get by the end of the day. I took the cheap onepiece with slow movements, gently laying on the bed before I drew a tool belt from an adjacent drawer. A pair of worn out blue socks and some corporate approved boxers joined the uniform on the bed soon after. The last pieces were a pair of black boots that rose half way to my calves, the heavy duty plastic was unyielding to change its form even as I took them out from another closet.

It didn’t take long to get dressed in my costume, 10 minutes tops at most and the whole time, I could feel the excitement rising as I left behind my real self and immersed into the "character" I would play. One last look at the big mirror on one side of the room left me pleased with my work. A smile made its way to my face as I approached the white bag on the night table. I took out a wallet made of fake leather, the insides opening as I took it out. An array of multicolored cards rested inside, along with a digital picture of my new self. Pocketing the wallet, I reached inside to take out the credit chip and the false ID I had palmed from the last job. I stored the chip on one of my breast pockets and used the other pocket to hoist the plastic ID. It was time to get started and with that in mind I left the apartment.

It took me half an hour to reach the modern building that served as Advanced Informatics, the glass skyscraper with neon lights running across its borders was quite intimidating on its own, but with a goal like mine, the air became heavier as I approached. I took a few deep breaths, preparing myself to get into character. First came the slouch of one used to be looked down, then a slight limp from an badly healed wound, a downcast gaze and a nervous tick to the arms as I walked would sell the character better and then, They would learn never to mock me again. A slow pace brought me to a side alley, a few more steps took me close to the metal door that worked as the service entrance. A card reader rested next to it and a small black dome, barely a finger’s width in diameter rested a top it. I glanced nervously at it, fingers making a show of struggling to release my badge before I swiped in on the car reader. A red light blinked twice, a soft buzzing sound coming from the door just as it slid to the side. Barely seconds after I had walked in the door crossed once more. 

The smell of bleach and cheap cologne filled the narrow hallway, white smooth walls extended down about five meters before taking a turn right. A pair of thuds made me look down, a white drone that reminded me of a mice looked up at me, its blue eyes blinking twice before it speed down the hallway. I followed its trail, the almost imperceptible sound of its wheel filling the otherwise silent halls. The drone took me to a small room filled to the brim with cleaning supplies. The little mouse prodded one of the gliding cleaners, a red light turning on at the touch, It was a white cylinder with red rings, a black dome resting on the top. The new drone rose a few centimeters into the with a humming sound, quickly coming to rest near me. The mouse prodded me twice again before I guided down a maze of corridors , bringing me to a narrow elevator. 

With an acted tiredness, I swiped my card once more, the elevator’s door opening without a sound. The mouse drone blinked its eyes twice one last time, before it left, hiding in the maze of corridors. I boarded the machine quickly, humming an old song I could vaguely remember while the glass box went up. To all the cameras I knew were watching me, I was just another janitor on his way to work, but inside my head, I was recalling as much information as I could about the floor’s layout. Camera locations, objective locations, patrols and personnel distribution. Most of those would be rendered useless against my masterpiece and that was part of its brilliance. It’s a truth well known to all that no one paid a janitor any mind, they’re part of the background, they’re sentient enough to do their jobs, but only just and that, and that alone, would bring their downfall.

A beep rang out through the elevator, the metallic door opening with a soft whoosh. A vaguely floral aroma refreshing the recycled air. With a sense of trepidation, I trudged into the floor, taking in the light blue hallways with a wide yellow line. The drone followed me without a sound, always keeping a few millimeters between the two of us. A soft humming coming from far away hung in the air. With a quick wave over the drone’s dome, a monocolored hologram appeared near my hand, its circle shaped array presenting its many functions. With feigned happiness I selected its simple cleaning routine and started on my job, following the corporate accepted counter clockwise direction. There were few employees on the hallways as I set on my task, most of them keeping themselves inside their sterile labs. Their eyes locked in deep concentration in the shifting forms in their screens, muttered curses serving as background noise. Even the security seemed to be caught in a shared daydream, their eyes reflecting their boredom as they shoot the occasional glance at the labs. None of them paid attention to me while I discreetly planted the bugs in the camera, nor when I made some arrangements to the floor circuits when I passed near the maintenance room. 

When I had at last arrived at the server room, however, things became more difficult. A pair of guards, close to their fifties by their looks, stood guard in front of the door. Their humanoid bodies covered from head to toe in tactic armor the gray and red kevlar indicating their status as elite troops. The armor itself offered little opening save for a bit of neck exposed for mobility and the few slits between their articulations. A sour flavor poured into my mouth when I took notice of his heavy rifle, a model that I had never seen, but going by the barrel size alone, it was impossible for me to do something about it without attracting every guard on the floor. I kept on the cleaning act, one hand delving into my pocket to bring out the square shaped patch I had brought in case of an emergency, unsure of whether to use it now or later.

The decision was made for me when a loud explosion went through the building, shouts and wails echoing in the halls just seconds before the gunfire broke out. The guards shared a look, taking cover behind the walls, the clicks of their rifles announcing the use of lethal force. I had found a chance. I threw myself to the floor, crying out in fear as I clutched the drone in my arms. One of the guards looked my way, raising his gun at me. Another cry left my throat as I started pleading for my life, citing how much of a good janitor I had been to the company, begging them to protect us all from the robbers. I even included a story about my ailing mom for good measure, crying crocodile sized tears all the time. The other guard laughed at my antics, a synthetic and raspy voice that betrayed the use of a modulator. The sound of heavy steps turned their attention to the front, the hail of gunfire breaking the peace. At that moment I started my plan, my fingers pressed the patch hard until I felt something inside pop and I slid it int he guards’ direction, thick smoke coming out of it once it had reached its destination.

I broke into a spring, wading through the smoke to get into the server room. From my pocket I withdrew the electric charge I had been reserving to bust the room’s lock. Sparks and thin lines of electricity came in a burst from the lock once they made contact, the door opening just a bit before stopping with a groan. I slid my hands into the narrow space, opening the door with my orcish strength. A flurry of stray bullets almost hit me as I slipped inside, the curses from the guards growing in strength. I didn’t waste time to rush to the third row of servers, the horrible heat they produced enough to make me break into a sweat. I found my target soon enough, the jungle of cables connected to the sleek gray box assuring me it was the right one. Trembling fingers took out my a red card from my wallet that with the soft push of a button transformed into a mini storage unit. The new device connected successfully, nimble fingers soon traced down the files I needed and in less than 5 minutes, I was pulling out of the room. The firefight continued, I darted from cover to cover, narrowly avoiding death a handful of times. The droid was not so fortunate, its form pierced through a dozen times as it tried to follow me to safety. Soft moans and cries of pain rising under the gunfire, providing me the perfect cover to reach the stairs. A few seconds spend fiddling with the locks were enough to get me into the empty stairs, strong legs carrying me down the steps at twos and threes at a time. Finally, I made my way to the lobby, lungs begging for air and legs screaming in protest. I took my time to gather myself and resume my cover. With a not completely feigned tiredness, I trudged into the lobby, exchanging worried comments with a few fellow janitors as I angled towards the lockeroom. From there on, it was easy as pie to slip through the token blockade the police had put up around the building. I couldn't wait to see the faces of the Director's Board once their secrets hit the light of day, it'll serve them right for refusing to hire me.


End file.
